For Love Of Llamas

Woman's Interest Has Evolved Into Farm And Herd Of 43

It's A Common View That Farming Is A Dying Trade. But North Central And Eastern Connecticut Is Dotted With Farms Where Products Ranging From Nubian Goats To Tobacco To Llamas Are Raised. This Is The First Installment In An Occasional Series Profiling Area Farmers.

June 29, 1998|By LISA GOLDBERG; Courant Staff Writer

Virginia Pierson wanted two llamas -- males -- to keep as pets in the backyard of her secluded farm off Route 44.

It had been love at first sight for the 70-year-old woman when she walked into an animal tent and saw the regal, long-necked creatures at the Eastern States Exposition in September 1991.

By January 1992, Pierson and her husband, Mel, had put up fencing and a barn -- and had bought six llamas. Their first two baby llamas were born that fall.

``He said as long as we're going to build the barn, we may as well have some babies,'' Virginia Pierson said of her husband. ``And then I found out they came in different colors.''

These days, Crestland Llamas, the Piersons' 45-acre farm in north Coventry, is home to 43 llamas, including three born in the month of June. The Piersons, who are both retired, breed, sell and show the animals, and Virginia Pierson spins their exotic wool into thread and makes it into clothing.

The couple sells the llamas, the wool and the clothing that Virginia Pierson makes. The llama trade is more sporadic than other types of farming. A dairy farmer always has a product to sell -- milk -- but a llama farmer might go months between selling one of the animals.

Raising llamas on the land Virginia Pierson's family first bought in 1934 was never part of the couple's master plan. Neither was the sheer number of their herd, a number that grows with each birth because the Piersons have trouble selling their babies.

``We feel people out when they come to buy,'' Mel Pierson said. ``If we feel they'll get a good home, we'll let them go. If we don't, we don't have anything to sell.''

The couple has nursed premature llamas, tube- feeding the creatures to health, and once went to great lengths to try to fix a cleft palate on one. The barns are clean; sick or pregnant llamas are coddled.

``The Piersons never want to sell their llamas,'' said Alan Witkin, who, with his wife, Patricia, owns Harmony Acres, a llama farm in South Windsor. ``If I ever die and come back reincarnated as a llama, I'd want to be in their herd. They treat their llamas well.''

Witkin started his llama farm in 1987, at a time when raising and breeding the gentle animals was less common. But as the price of the animals has dropped -- from about $10,000 for a female in 1987 to about $3,000 these days -- the number of llama farms and llama owners has increased.

Still, despite the popularity, officials with state and federal farm programs in Connecticut say they don't track llamas or llama farms. New farmers must learn about the care and feeding of the animals from local associations and the International Lama Registry. They can also rely on veteran farmers like the Piersons and Witkins as well as on equine veterinarians.

At Crestland Llamas, the llamas roam in fenced-in areas behind the couple's house and pool. The female llamas live together in the big barn closest to the house; the males live in separate quarters, including stalls in the second barn.

The animals are quiet and gentle, and their living quarters lack the barnyard smell common to other types of farms. Although llamas have earned a reputation as spitters, they only spit when they feel threatened or abused, the Piersons said.

The llamas use only a small part of the farm; Virginia Pierson's son, David Buscaglia, uses much of it for corn and hay for his dairy farm on Silver Street.

For the Piersons, the animals have filled a void. The couple had been avid boaters, but they had to get rid of their boats after Mel Pierson had a heart attack.

Pierson, a former nuclear security consultant, has been on medical retirement since 1987.

After the 1991 Big E, he visited llama farms within commuting distance while his wife was at her job as an administrative assistant at the University of Connecticut.

``I started doing the research and fell in love,'' said Mel Pierson, 56. ``When I'm not feeling good, I can go over to the barn and they'll nuzzle me. They're just very easy-going and nice to be around.''

The Piersons, who also have 12 cats and three dogs, have bought llamas from farms as far away as California. They look for llamas of all colors with known bloodlines, and they register each animal in their herd with the International Llama Association. They keep the registrations and a picture of each animal in a red binder.

Their shirts have llamas on them; Virginia Pierson wears a llama-shaped pendant. Each llama has a name, like MacGyver and Silver Comet. Some names are based on parentage, others on whim.

``They're low-maintenance, quiet, intelligent and clean,'' she said. ``I consider it a privilege to be able to raise them.''